


love♡sick

by pancakeville



Category: Produce 101 (TV), UP10TION, VICTON (Band), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, and they were ROOMMATES, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 00:47:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20023765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancakeville/pseuds/pancakeville
Summary: Wooseok becomes accustomed to Seungwoo's sudden departure.And then he comes back.





	love♡sick

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't stand looking at this anymore so we post like men. Anything in parentheses is set in the past, and everything without is present day. Was not written in chronological order regardless so if things don't flow, plz forgive me. Was supposed to be much shorter so the setting/details are vague but . . . yeah. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading!

Looking back, Wooseok could woefully declare Jinhyuk as the instigator of all his pain and troubles.

_“He’s looking for a place to stay, you’re looking for a roommate, it’s perfect.”_

“It’s Seungwoo hyung.” His tone came out drier than he’d intended, but he tells himself he’s entirely justified. Jinhyuk audibly bristles over the call.

_“Exactly. It’s Seungwoo hyung. More of a reason than any to say yes.”_

There’s no real logic in saying no, Jinhyuk’s right. He’s desperate for a roommate with rent draining his savings, and no one could be more ideal than Seungwoo, especially for him. He would know, having already roomed with said man for a few years in an off-campus setting for school, and Wooseok had never described him as anything less than exemplary whenever asked.

An automatic reaction, one forged out of obligation for the man that up and left without a second glance back.

Wooseok feels a wistful thread of longing tug at his heart. “I don’t know.”

_“Think about it, but think fast, because I already told him you said yes. He’ll be arriving tonight, have fun!”_

Wooseok stares at his phone after the other’s already hung up, and he’s sure if he strained his ears at that very moment, he’d hear Jinhyuk have the final laugh from miles down the road in his own home.

* * *

The doorbell rings and Wooseok pats his couch pillow for the nth time that night, brows furrowed as he turns it the other way to hide the ketchup stains courtesy of a wild night consisting of Dongpyo and Eunsang battling their inner fears as Annabeth terrorized the screen. However, the other side has a strange white stain dead in the centre he’s not entirely sure the origin of (his mind conjures the image of Seungyoun’s innocent smile, entirely faux in nature, without warning and he shakes his head quickly to be rid of it) and decides to pick the lesser evil.

Ketchup it is.

He pauses at the door, the idea weighing him down that when he opened the door, he’d be face to face with someone he’d shut out of his thoughts (never successfully, sure, but that’s besides the point), unsure of when he’d ever see him again.

Arbitrarily, that day is clearly today.

“Wooseok,” Seungwoo breathes out, an array of emotions flickering over his face when he finally gathers the will to answer, coming face to face after what felt like an eternity apart. Wooseok doesn’t pay it much heed, instead focusing on how Seungwoo seems even _taller_ , if that was possible. He’s dressed in a muscle tank, so _naturally_ Wooseok’s eyes trail to his arms, to the way he fills out his shirt, to the new tattoos scattered about his inner arm. 

Seungwoo almost feels like a stranger then, and yet as he meets his eyes and a hint of quiet longing reflects back at him, perhaps things haven’t changed as much as he’d originally assumed they would.

Perhaps time doesn’t heal all wounds. 

He clears his throat. “Hyung. Come in.”

Seungwoo hesitates, clenching the straps of his backpack tighter, but nods nevertheless after a moment. He brushes past him on his way in, and Wooseok redirects his gaze towards the ground. 

This will be a mistake. 

He watches Seungwoo’s back as he goes further in, the idea slowly settling in that he was really here, after four years of radio silence, in his apartment, ready to stay. 

Wooseok can feel it in his bones; he’ll live to rue the day. 

* * *

(The first time Seungwoo kisses Wooseok, he presses his back against the club wall and fills his lungs with want. He’s hot to the touch, body singing, entirely ignoring how they’re hidden out of view from everyone that matters. It’s resembles a dirty little secret, how their friends chase shots instead of dreams for a night, oblivious to what goes on a few feet away -- only the shadows laid witness to the start of something that felt inevitable but only until it actually _happened._

Seungwoo had initially urged wet and hurried kisses onto needy lips, as if desperately chasing something almost out of reach, while Wooseok’s hands held him down by the waist, giving in entirely and driven with the way a high sings melodically in his veins. Eventually, the world around them slows down, or maybe it’s the way Seungwoo simultaneously gets softer and deeper, taking the minutes to familiarize himself with the slope of his lips, kisses him as if he’s got all the time in the world just for him. 

He doesn’t remember how long they stand there, only that after he’s finally home and in bed, Wooseok can still feel Seungwoo’s mouth on his, as if the sensation’s been permanently tattooed upon his essence, a feeling that will signify a change he can’t run away from. 

The first time Seungwoo kisses Wooseok, he wonders if he’s making a mistake.)

* * *

Amazing how silence quickly fills all the spaces between them without a second thought. 

Save for some polite conversation that doesn’t stray much from the present, the topic at hand spills into details about how the shower handle needs to be manipulated just right, how he hasn’t technically replaced the light in Seungwoo’s new room, followed by a small tour of his apartment that ends before it can really start. 

“Yeah,” He breathes out when an awkward lull falls between them, slowly backing out of the room. Seungwoo looks like he wants to say something then, bag thrown on the bed and fists clenched at his sides, but Wooseok takes that as a cue to flee. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Then he abandons him in his new room to settle down, and treks it back to his own. Falling face first into bed, it takes some time for his heart to stop racing, though he doesn’t examine it too closely. 

He wonders which topics could be considered safe to bring up for discussion, if they even had anything in common now aside from a past that Seungwoo didn’t seem to care much for anyways. 

Okay, perhaps he’s being too harsh with his judgement, but it’s easy to say he’s justified with the hurt that has clung to him like a shadow for the past few years. Truth is, if anyone could be given a prize for sentimentality, Seungwoo would’ve long since been able to line his shelves with countless trophies. 

He eventually closes his eyes and lets sleep engulf him whole.

* * *

The first time Wooseok bites Seungwoo’s lip, he makes eye contact the exact moment the other moans. He hadn’t paid it much attention in the moment, aside from raising his brow and muttering a quiet “cute” as Seungwoo flushed to the tips of his ears. He murmured something along the lines of “not fair” in return, but Wooseok was more focused on memorizing the way his lips felt on Seungwoo’s, oddly fascinated with the taste of mint chocolate lingering behind. 

He’s not sure why the memory plagues him that day, but it stays dormant in his mind throughout, awakening later when a reunion of sorts occurs to celebrate Seungwoo’s return. 

Seungwoo is seated in front of him, and Wooseok absentmindedly notes it’s like the missing puzzle piece has finally been added to the incomplete whole. Yohan had thrown himself at Seungwoo without a second thought once he stumbled into the place, and now Dongpyo clings to him sans remorse, and the older allows it, guilt clinging to his movements as he reassures the younger two he has no plans to leave again. 

No one address the elephant in the room, how the reason behind his initial departure had never been outright discussed. All most of them understand is they woke up one day to a text from Seungwoo himself, stating his intention to travel the globe, and that he’d return soon. 

It’s been four years since. Wooseok would know, he’s never lost count of the days.

The group is rambunctious and drawing much attention, but the old lady that manned the restaurant knows them well, only smiles in a way that is often reserved for her own grandchildren. It’s been a while since they all met together like this, with time and societal pressures to do well when it came to education and careers having done its dues on them all. 

Seungwoo had been in charge of keeping them all in line, like the glue that held them together. It only makes sense when he was pulled out of the equation, the glue would also fall apart. 

His eyes wander as Seungwoo takes a sip of his americano, lips around the straw, and Wooseok feels a warmth in his gut. He’s reminded of the flashback from earlier, how Seungwoo’s ears had flushed hot in that memory from a past almost forgotten but never quite so, how he’s never consigned to oblivion the sensation of being touched solely by the other’s tender but ruthless desire. Seungwoo catches his eye offhandedly, head tilting in question, and all he can will himself to do is avert his eyes, instead looking towards Seungyoun and Hangyul’s animate conversation at the other end of the table.

Butterflies tug at his heartstrings, but Wooseok’s always been good at ignoring them.

* * *

(“You’re cruel,” Seungwoo had once told him, hurt transparent in his features. They had been younger and less experienced in what it meant to truly live, and Wooseok was confident in his defiance. Instead, he had stared at him unnervingly, unfaltering in his stubbornness, even though his conscious pled for him to make amends. Seungwoo had cracked first, like he always tended to, sighing in a show of exhaustion before leaving the apartment without another word. 

Wooseok didn’t sleep well that night. 

He could feign ignorance only for so long, and as a storm brewed both internally and in the skies outdoors, he’d realized then this attachment had become unmanageable. 

No matter how he could settle for the fact Seungwoo would always return the next day, a fresh pot of tea waiting for Wooseok on the counter in the form of an unnecessary apology. He never remembers why they’d argued, only that these things could remain bottled only for so long before seeking catharsis. The words, wet with guilt, would always get lodged in his throat, desperate to be conveyed to one who had, at some point along the way, gathered the ability to read him with a single look. Yet, Seungwoo would only offer a simple smile and everything would wash away as if the ocean’s tide had wiped the slate clear once more.

The storm outside had passed long before Wooseok even woke, but the one that plagued his insides finally began to clear at the sight.

Seungwoo would always come back the next morning.

At least, until he didn’t.)

* * *

Living with Seungwoo again is like falling back into a familiar pattern he’d never entirely forgotten. 

His body catches up faster than his mind does, fittering around in the kitchen while mindful of the other’s breakfast routine as they both rush to work, when they’re simultaneously home and Seungwoo awkwardly asks if he’d like to watch something together and his mouth replies in the affirmative before he can consider the consequences of his actions, when longing suffocates his lungs as he realizes he’d forgotten what it meant not being lonely until Seungwoo came back into his life. 

Living with Seungwoo again is a chance he’s prayed for with bated breath, unknowing he was doing so until the moment had already passed. 

Despite how complicated and unsettled everything felt when he focused too hard on the blurred lines, Seungwoo had been his friend first, before the messed up part came into focus. A constant in his life, a rock in the chaos known as everyday existence, someone he could depend on. Seungwoo supported him when he found himself lacking and unable to turn to others for the comfort he craved -- he’d become a home long before Wooseok even realized he’d found it with him.

Living with Seungwoo again is entirely destructive, but he ignores that part.

* * *

(No one had known, for they never told anyone. Wooseok swore there was nothing _to_ tell, even if he woke up to Seungwoo’s arms wrapped around his body without remorse, even if he kissed him till his lungs filled with want and he suffocated on it all, even if he ignored how he stopped looking in the direction of others, because contentment was his to hold.

“What was he -- your _boyfriend?”_ Jinhyuk’s joking, having long since picked up on Wooseok’s sour mood since he lost his roommate to the wonders of the world. Wooseok attempted to laugh it off, but can’t seem to get the sound to push past his tongue. He instead busies himself by rearranging the salt and pepper shakers at the end of the table, and becomes entirely too aware of how Jinhyuk had started staring at him. 

“You’re kidding. You’re literally pulling my leg right now.”

Wooseok’s voice is rough when he finally speaks, keeping his eyes averted. “We weren’t _dating,_ no. Nothing happened, don’t worry about it.”

Jinhyuk is silent for a minute. 

“You’re lying.” His tone turns almost accusatory, tinted with a hint of betrayal.

He sighs. “Jinhyuk,”

Jinhyuk’s always known him best, which is why his brain goes to work instantly, eyes narrowing as he clearly begins to think about the situation at hand, how detached he’d become since their mutual friend left to backpack across god knows where -- Wooseok sees it in his eyes the moment realization settles in. Composed fury has his usually tempered best friend grit his teeth almost immediately.

“I’ll kill him,” Jinhyuk makes to stand then, a fierce look in his eyes as he looks to the door, “I’ll kill him where he stands.”

“Sit down, idiot,” But his voice is fond as he reaches out and pulls Jinhyuk down by the elbow. He waits until the other’s properly seated again, seeing the argument rising in his expression.

“Nothing happened,” He shrugs, and he feels it in his bones, how badly he wants to believe his own words, “I mean it. I’m fine.”

Jinhyuk opens his mouth. “I’m _fine_.” He closes it again.

Wooseok leans back in his seat, and he can’t deny the bout of affection towards his best friend in abundance in that very moment, always present but multiplying tenfold then as he considers the possibility of Jinhyuk going to fight his own favourite hyung, all for Wooseok.

He’d ought to be more pleased than he felt though, but lets the yearning exhale from his lungs with a bitter sense of many regrets. 

Jinhyuk stares at him as he composes his next thought, and Wooseok turns to look out the windows instead. 

“I hate that I miss him.” His voice is faint and the words feel akin to a confession instead of something casual like he’d been going for. 

“Me too,” Jinhyuk says after a moment, eyes birthing a spark of knowledge, before he turns to the newly arrived waiter and begins reciting a section of the menu by heart.) 

* * *

“Everyone’s noticed.” 

It’s an offhand comment, made as Jinhyuk continues sipping on his juice box. His eyes stay planted on ensuring his cousin, who shrieks and laughs with her friends on the playground, is safe like the watchful older pseudo-brother figure he tries to be, and Wooseok narrows his eyes before turning towards the same sight.

“Noticed what?”

“You’re really going to make me spell it out?” 

He purses his lips at that, displeased. Had he really been that transparent? 

_Yes_ , his subconscious says then, a twinge of amusement ever present and Wooseok bristles at himself internally.

Yet, it’s not something he can deny, now is it?

And Jinhyuk knows him better than he knows himself, has ever since they met for the first time at this exact playground in their childhood, their mothers encouraging them to become quick friends. Jinhyuk had awkwardly held out a hand for him to take, and despite everything, despite how he’d rather hide behind his mother’s legs in a plea for sanctuary, he’d taken it. 

Jinhyuk knows him better than he knows himself, which is why he only huffs in quiet frustration. “That obvious?”

“It’s not your fault. Seungwoo hyung’s never been good at keeping secrets, even if he wanted to.” He shrugs then, taking one last sip before crushing the box in his hand. “It spells itself out on his face when he looks at you.”

Ah, yes. He could feign ignorance all he wants, but Seungwoo’s burning and expectant gaze is like a phantom sensation even now, when the other’s safely tucked away at home where he can’t reach for Wooseok’s heart and take it for his own. 

“But also,” He says then, before Wooseok can think to reply. He reaches for his cousin’s cookies, clearly bent on devouring her unfinished lunchbox before they headed home. His eyes turn to him, offering a cookie, and there’s a knowing look brewing there, asking to be let in. “I know you.”

Wooseok looks away with a hint of shame, but not before accepting the cookie.

He clenches his free fist, nails digging into his skin and searches for the right words. How does one express their inner turmoil when they haven’t entirely reached a consensus themselves -- how does one say they’re afraid of even reaching a conclusion that sits right in their gut, but still doused in fear for the unknown?

“It wasn’t -- supposed to be like this,” He lamentes, shoulders slumping, He keeps his gaze focused on the ground before them, on a single flower that fights the harsh wind with its dying breath.

“I know,” Jinhyuk says eventually, and it’s more than enough of an answer. 

“But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

A hand settles on his shoulder in attempts to comfort, and Wooseok lets the warmth of Jinhyuk’s touch ground him. He looks back to the playground, children screaming in loud delights and mourns the easier times.

* * *

(“He’ll come back eventually,” Byungchan had smiled, a hint of pity and reluctance around the corners. He’d given an apology that wasn’t his to offer, and Wooseok remembers why he hated the very concept of feeling for others, hated how Seungwoo left with a part of himself and sans the remorse to return it in one piece. He realizes then that love is synonymous with the regret that racks the body when all is said and done -- like it does for him in that exact moment. That was when it began to feel real.

Seungwoo was really gone.)

* * *

“Why’d you come back?” He asks one day, a little tipsy from all the beer the night had been generous with, appetite satisfied with the chicken Seungwoo had brought on his way home from work. Still, he craves answers and liquid courage invites the opportunity to seek them.

So, he stares at him expectedly, and waits.

Seungwoo doesn’t falter the way he assumed he might, instead continues sipping on his own beer and keeps his eyes planted on him in lieu of how Naruto pled for Sasuke to come back home with him, desperate to be heard.

He doesn’t remember _Naruto_ being this emotional.

“Hyung?” 

Seungwoo hums then, putting his chilled bottle down on the coaster he’s brought out for them before the night had even started. Wooseok wiggles his toes, his feet having made their way into Seungwoo’s lap at some point after they’d retired to the couch. 

“You.”

Wooseok’s eyes are slow to rise, heart pounding. Seungwoo clarifies.

“What if I said I came back for you?” His gaze burns bright, and Wooseok feels his mouth dry under the scrutiny, at the weight of his words. 

“That’s dumb.”

“Maybe so,” He says, slightly teasingly, but his eyes have already transitioned into a state of being half-lidded with desire, “But no matter where I went, all I could think about was what I’d left behind.”

On screen, Naruto starts drowning and Sasuke only watches him go, and Wooseok leans in before he can make the same mistake.

* * *

(He wakes up to Seungwoo’s face snuggled against his chest, their legs tangled in a common mess, and he’s glad he texted Seungyoun earlier to say he was cancelling on his and Hangyul’s plans to catch some latest movie, because he wants nothing more than to stay in bed for at least a couple hours more -- but he’ll take whatever he can get.

His thoughts fly out the window when Seungwoo shifts in his position, signaling he’s waking. Sleepy eyes open slowly, blinking to adjust to the light in the room, and lips curl into a small twitch of happiness. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” He repeats before bringing him in for a slow, drawn out kiss, pulling away a moment later with a crinkle of his nose and a comment about morning breath. Seungwoo chuckles softly at that, eyes crinkling as a signature before he begins peppering kisses at every inch of skin he sees, spending time and putting special care into touching the marks he had put onto Wooseok’s body the night before. 

_“_ Mine,” He whispers after sucking in a hickey that would bruise long enough and in a place that the other couldn’t quite hide without a scarf, leaning back to admire his work. A pain, Wooseok notes offhandedly, considering it was currently the dead of summer, but perhaps he doesn’t mind as much as should. 

“All mine,” Seungwoo mutters again, eyes shining with the nature of an unearthed confession in his words, as if his actions haven’t been doing all the talking since that first night in the club, where his hands trailed up Wooseok’s shirt and asked for more than he could give. 

The part that chokes Wooseok then is how he doesn’t protest, simply lets Seungwoo engulf him whole, each touch pulling him infinitely closer in without a word. His toes curl, his breath catches, and all he can take care to do is ignore the demons that are hungry for this to become something more definite.)

* * *

The problem always lies with the concept of miscommunication, or rather, the lack of communication altogether. 

They don’t acknowledge the night before in the morning, how Naruto had been quickly discarded to reenact something they’ve done time and time again the last time they roomed together. Instead, Wooseok grumbles about a headache, and Seungwoo is on the brink of uncharacteristically too quiet, nursing his own hangover as he brews a new pot of tea. He can’t recall which of them had been the fool to suggest drinking on a Tuesday evening, but the details aren’t too important as Wooseok curses under his breath, eyeing the time. 

Jinwook will have his head if he’s late again, a thought that somewhat amuses him despite the honest threat. Though, it’s the idea of his rather perfect attendance record that motivates him out of there, led by the alluring promise of a lucrative bonus if he keeps it up, mindlessly getting dressed. He drowns his tea and makes to flee the apartment at a record pace, head pounding into his skull.

“Have a good day, Wooseokie,” Seungwoo calls out as he tucks on his shoes, half way out the door already, but he pauses to look back then. He’s greeted with the vision of a half-dressed Seungwoo, grinning toothily, hair still wet from the shower. His eyes trail to his neck, the way a love bite sits transparent on his skin, and allows the pleased feeling that stirs in his gut to remain as he raises a hand in acknowledge and allows the door to click shut behind him.

* * *

(“You seeing anyone?” The man asks him, mouthing at his collarbones. The club music is loud and shakes the floor beneath him, but Wooseok finds his thoughts captivated in the past, to a time when Seungwoo hadn’t left him behind and summoned the courage to be bold.

“No,” He replies, voice vacant of emotion. 

“Come home with me,” The stranger breathes out, mouth trailing from his neck to his jaw to the corner of his lips, and Wooseok supposes there’s no harm in saying yes. All he had waiting for him is an empty bed inside an empty apartment, and a flame of loneliness that burns slow and steady in the pit of his stomach.

_Sure,_ he makes to say, mouth forming the answer. He remembers the sensation of Seungwoo’s hands upon his body, hot to the touch with want, and the way he’d asked Wooseok to let him in.

“No.” Perhaps it’s his heart stepping in, and he supposes he should’ve expected it though the surprise is clear between him and his companion, who stops to give him a look. He sighs, head leaning back against the wall for just a second to find his composure, before he unravels himself from his dance partner’s arms. 

“Sorry,” He offers instead, ignoring the incredulous look he’s given, and instead tucks his hands into his pockets and heads for the exit without another word. The empty bed inside the empty apartment is all he’s got going for him tonight.)

* * *

Surprise, surprise; they don’t talk about it.

Wooseok swears he isn’t avoiding the topic, instead drowning in new projects at work that stay with him when he’s home and finally in reach of his bed. Seungwoo treats him well through the rough two weeks of presentations and approaching deadlines, but is akin to a ghost the rest of the time. He sees his face pop up on his InstaFeed when he scrolls through the application on his unintended breaks, Byungchan and Sejun’s feeds updated every few days with a new group picture of the friends.

Wooseok clicks his phone shut eventually, ignores the envy that crawls up his throat, and busies himself back into his workload like any sane young adult trying to keep their job.

Yet, everything falls apart the next time they kiss, touch, hold each other through the night, when Wooseok wakes up tangled in his sheets alone. He doesn’t pay it much heed, dragging his feet to the kitchen, expecting to round the corner to see Seungwoo at the stovetop, his shoulders a welcomed sight.

So, it’s a little surprising when there’s no one there. 

Still, he doesn’t entertain the flare of worry in his stomach, making his own cup of tea for the first time in months. He drinks it alone, scrolls through his notifications and makes his way through the morning routine he’s become accustomed to. 

_Thank god it’s Friday_ , he thinks once he’s at his desk, eyeing the pile of folders that await him with all the distaste in the world. 

But when he goes home to a still-empty apartment, Wooseok unearths a level of stress he hadn’t expected inside him. He loosens his tie and reminds himself he can’t worry, Seungwoo always comes home.

_Until he doesn’t,_ his mind reminds him. 

He takes a long shower, the water almost scaldingly hot but a welcome distraction from the trainwreck of his thoughts. The rest of the time, he paces the apartment, finger hovering over Seungwoo’s name before talking himself out of it and then repeat.

It’s irrational, how he lets the fear consume him just because he hadn’t seen Seungwoo for a whole day, just because he left in the morning to an empty place and returned to the same sight, just like he had four years earlier. Only then, he hadn’t worried until he saw the text the next day, hadn’t thought to say anything until it was too late. 

_Fuck it,_ he thinks eventually, thumbs flying over the keyboard as he mindlessly types and sends something more honest than he’s allowed himself to be in a while.

He finally sits on the couch, and runs a hand across his features before looking back to his phone. The words _come home_ stare back at him, almost tauntingly, but he closes his eyes and asks for leniency. 

* * *

Then Seungwoo comes home.

“Where were you?” He asks, failing entirely at the casual approach he’d entertained when he paced around the room. Seungwoo puts a plastic bag on the counter, his mind processing it’s some takeout, and feels both shame and relief overwhelm him then. He quickly shakes his head, turning away. 

“Sorry. Nevermind.” It’s not his business, he reminds himself. Seungwoo could come and go as he pleased, he was just one constant among the sea of possibilities. 

His hair is still a little wet to the touch as he runs a hand through it, looking for where he’d thrown his phone on the couch. A flush of embarrassment spreads inside him, eats at his insides the longer he stands in that room and lets the realization fester that he’d been waiting for the other to return with panic marring his thoughts and actions.

“Wooseok,” Seungwoo starts, closing the space between then. There’s something in his tone he doesn’t want to pay close attention to, and so Wooseok doesn’t look at him. He finally locates the device, but before he can grab it, Seungwoo’s already beside him, navigating him to sit. “Wait. Please.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He’s good at remaining obtusely expressionless, staring at anything that wasn’t the one beside him. Seungwoo sighs. 

“I’m not going to leave again,” He despises how easy he is to read, an open book to Seungwoo’s analytical eyes. Wooseok nods robotically, “I swear. Look at me, please.”

“You can’t promise that.” He meets his eyes anyways, despite his reluctance. “And you don’t need to, hyung. I’ll support whatever you do.”

Wooseok forces a smile, and Seungwoo looks pained at the sight. “We’re just roommates, anyways.”

He swallows, but doesn’t let up. The words taste bittersweet on his lips, but the truth is a hungry demon that gives birth to pain. Seungwoo looks down then, murmuring something. Wooseok thinks he hears him wrong, stares hard for a minute, before “Sorry?” 

“I wish that you would love me.” His eyes are a little wet and full of emotion undiscussed when he looks up again, and Wooseok’s heart hiccups at the sight. “It’s hard looking at you, being around you, touching you knowing you’ll never be mine.”

“Hyung--”

“I know. You don’t owe me anything. You deserve more than what I can give you, but I -- don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. And I have, for _so long,_ I don’t know what it means not to love you as much as I do.”

He clenches his hand into a fist and lets the sensation of his nails digging into his skin ground him; refuses to entertain the growing hope in his chest, refuses to pay it any attention.

“But that’s not your weight to carry, it’s mine. I just want you to know, when I’m being selfish and entirely unfair to you, it’s never your fault, and I do. Value our friendship, that is, which is why I won’t leave again, at least not the way I did last time. So, please--”

“I love you too.” 

The words rush out of him like an unexpected avalanche, the impact immediate. Seungwoo’s eyes widen, trailing off as if he’s lost his train of thought, and Wooseok feels small tremors run up his hands as he goes on. 

“I do. Love you.” _And it scares me,_ he tries to say, struggle evident. 

“I didn’t -- want to pressure you,” Seungwoo rushes to say, as Wooseok shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have mentioned it anyways--”

“Stop.” 

“Can I take it back? God, let me take it back--”

He reaches out then, grabbing Seungwoo’s hand and squeezing it until the other quiets, meeting his eyes again. Still wet, still overflowing with much to be read, and Wooseok swallows slowly. 

“I don’t want you to take it back.”

He’s oddly too aware of the fact that it's raining outside, the sound of pouring showers finding a home sliding down the windows outside. 

“I love you so much it makes me sick.” Seungwoo makes to speak, but Wooseok holds up a finger to the other’s lips, flustered. “Wait, let me explain. It’s like -- like being stuck on a boat in the middle of nowhere, and you’re plagued with seasickness, and it _sucks._ ” 

He pauses, shoulders slumping, and the truth untold is a heavy burden he’s always taken care of locking away inside him. “But when you finally settle down, you realize it isn’t so bad, that you actually like it. On that dumb boat, still sick, but sitting there, feeling peaceful. Peace like you’ve never felt before.”

He breaks again, contemplative. “Huh. This made more sense in my head.” 

_Wow,_ he thinks then, flustered, _this could go better._

Seungwoo blinks, unexpressive for the most part as he gouges the words. Wooseok doesn’t know what to think, biting his bottom lip out of habit, staring in wait. Then the other’s shoulders start shaking, and it takes him a moment to realize he’s laughing.

Wooseok grapples with maintaining his serious facade, feeling affronted, before he too huffs out a chuckle. 

“No one ever said I have a way with words.”

Seungwoo, ever the benevolent soul, subdues the humour of it all, trailing off with a shake of his head. “We’re a mess.”

“A big mess,” He agrees, and he’s not entirely sure why two rushed confessions, miniature in the scheme of things, could make everything feel _right_ again, more right than things have been in a long time. 

“Now that that’s done,” He begins, reaching out to cup Seungwoo’s cheek as the other stares back expectedly, “I’m hungry.”

The sound of Seungwoo’s laughter fills the room, and Wooseok thinks _yeah. Yeah, this? I can live with._

* * *

He’s somewhat aware of the others arriving and heading to their usual table, but he can’t seem to pull himself away from staring at Seungwoo, who is currently rambling on about something he’d seen in Osaka last year. He had been engrossed in listening, up until Seungwoo stopped to compose his thoughts and his tongue swiped along his bottom lip.

Well, safe to say he got distracted then. 

Seungwoo doesn’t seem to notice, and so slowly, Wooseok finds himself leaning in towards the other, an indescribable look etched onto his features. It’s only once he’s a breath away, does Seungwoo stop mid-rant, blinking owlishly. 

“What are you doing?”

And he takes that as a cue, pressing his lips to Seungwoo’s soft ones without further ado. It’s a chaste kiss, he doesn’t even bother closing his eyes, instead taking to staring back into Seungwoo’s wide pupils, until the kiss breaks and all he can do is smile against the other’s lips.

“What was that?” Seungwoo murmurs, eyes searching. The smile stays on Wooseok’s face, even as he takes one of Seungwoo’s hands into his own, all while keeping his gaze locked within the other’s. 

“Nothing. Y’know, just thinking about how much I love you.”

Seungwoo flushes at the tip of his ears, spreading till his cheeks tint pink, and Wooseok’s content in knowing he’s pleased. The smile upgrades to form a grin, laying a kiss on Seungwoo’s hand lovingly.

“You both are sick, sick individuals.” He doesn’t pay Seungyoun any attention, but Seungwoo jolts back at the newcomer, and Wooseok has to sigh. 

“Think of the children!! The children, I say!”

“The only child around here is you.” Wooseok rolls his eyes as the said man covers Hyeongjun and Mingyu’s eyes respectively, dragging them away from the table. The younger two have long since learned there’s no use protesting when it came to Seungyoun’s antics, and Wooseok watches them leave with a bored look on his face.

“Hey,” Seungwoo tugs on his hand, and Wooseok turns back to a warm smile and dilated pupils, “I love you too.”

He feels his heart gush at the words, entirely and disgustingly endeared as he hums approvingly. “I know.”

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> if u made it to the end, u too deserve a cookie from jinhyuk:)


End file.
